Civil Disobedience
by lye tea
Summary: Even years after a tragedy, someone must pick up the leftover pieces. There resides a door between reality and fantasy. /Light x Sayu/


**Civil Disobedience**

_…absolute power corrupts absolutely…_

In spring, the showers came, hurling  
Fast and godspent in light, winding  
Down the bullets came, spinning  
Drilled holes into woolen and linen, clothing  
Bombarded the humans, drowning.  
A life is cast, slight is lost  
In the end of the end nothing becomes real  
Real disintegrates  
Death is nothing  
Death is death.

**i. ****spring is for the lilacs and lavenders.**

Early morning, Sayu rose and welcomed the dawn with a head held high, inhaling fresh air and health. She envisioned an ideal world of love and peace, _and light_. A world that never knew sorrow or death or the aftermath of tragedy. A world that was forever round, unmarked—not understanding disease and ugly.

_In an ideal world…_

(she devoured Utopia by the pages and thought: if only she were stronger)

Her mother knocked softly from the other side. Sayu jolted into reality, and a new morning began.

"Sayu, you're already awake?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Did you sleep well?"

"All right."

"No…nightmares?"

—dramatic pause (cause and effect)—

"None that I recall."

"Okay then, eat your breakfast."

"Yes, Mother."

Exit: Sachiko. Hands knotted (where the knuckles protruded, arthritis was a constant burden—a sullen, bitter reminder). Hair cropped short, widow's peak at its apogee. Old and exhausted, she was a woman who carried the weight of the world on delicate pearl-wings.

Sayu ate, watched the door drift into a close after her mother, and switched on the computer (force of habit). She dug into the eggs as the screen loaded, warming up for a new day's set of messages and notes and—

All that was left of her. And the outside world.

In her modest, sunlit room, Sayu could emerge from a tight-laced cacoon and pretend she was a normal girl (like her old friends and their girl-friends). For a moment, she actually believed that nothing awful happened, that Daddy and Light were simply away "we go bye-bye for now" (he used to say). And when they return, she can leap into their arms with a fresh, bleeding red heart caked with love.

Trembling and sha-shaking, Sayu clicked on the familiar window, opening the portal to lethal reward and reprisal.

_Hello, long time no t-a-l-k_, space, typing continued…

-

Matsuda was vastly enjoying himself, a girl from a _senior_ section consented to a date Friday night. He was a man who shot and scored tremendously well. The gears shifted fast inside, cells tapping into place (fuses lit and hell-fired), and out burgeoned an incomparable idea.

The movies.

There was a new film premiering Friday, and _really_, he traced lineage to Newtonian acumen. Small, enclosed, private, and dark. No one to pester them (should he sneak in a few illicit kisses and forbidden caresses). "Oh, you" she will say but smile, secretly glad, and wait for him to enamor her further.

Across the room, Aizawa frowned deeply at his subordinate and grumbled incoherently about the wiles and guiles of pleasure lost on youth.

"Hello, Aizawa here."

Mumbling, sibilance rising, maniacal.

"Slow down, lady, I can't hear you clearly."

Drip-droop (damn, the ceiling was leaking again) the lady…spoke…slow…ly…_now_.

"Matsuda!" Aizawa snapped.

"Yes sir!" and the other snapped into shape.

"Alert Near, quick. Looks like we've got another 'Kira'."

They both stopped, suppressing the loathsome irritation threatening to break out violently. Kira-Kira-Kira, the world was in love with Kira. And they were the humble servants attending to its wanton megrims.

-

Somewhere, sometime, someone typed a final sentence into his laptop and hit sent.

Three seconds later, Sayu Yagami received a new friend request from the chatroom. She smiled and selected _accep_t.

-

"I hate April, I really, really do."

"Shut up, Matsuda and pay attention."

"I-de-san! I'm being serious here—"

"For once."

"This stupid rain. If it keeps going at this rate, my date will be ruined."

"I thought you were taking her to see a movie."

"Even so, the atmosphere will be a downpour, excuse the pun."

"All these years and you're still a whiny bratty kid."

"I—"

"Quiet. We're on an investigation so act like it."

-

_Sayu, I cannot express how wonderful I feel, meeting you. I never thought, in my wildest dreams, that I would ever find a girl like you._

Such a charmer. Sayu pouted but replied. He was simpering—sociopathic and sycophantic—but he was another person, and she ached for a human conversation.

_Now, I think you're just being ridiculous._

Opposite the screen, a pair of malicious eyes glared rapturously. Only a matter of time and he will have her ensnared hopelessly. The rabbit caught, ready to be skinned (a figure of speech, of course), and the fox wetted his whiskers elegantly (whetting the appetite).

_Well, think what you like but I'm glad we met._

She sighed happily. Much more natural, thus naturally sweet.

_That's better. I am too._

Tap on the door. Sayu minimized the window and opened an innocuous one (suspicious mothers foretold debacles). Sachigo sauntered in with a hamper of laundry, dumped the disarray of clothes onto the bed, and started sorting them out.

"Mom, it's okay. I'll do it later."

"Are you sure? I don't mind; I can do it right now."

"No trouble. Besides, the doctor said that it's good for me to move as much as possible. I can walk down the street and back, no problem."

Sachiko weighed the pros and the cons (meanwhile, the dishes piled up higher and higher) and relented. She re-tied her apron strings and left the room.

_Sorry, my mom was here. What were you saying?_

Momentary lapse.

_I said: I want to send you a present, if that's okay. It's no big deal, just something I thought you might like._

She practically jumped from delirious joy. So considerate, so caring, so...

_Sorry but I don't know if I can accept it._

He emitted a slithering hiss. Perhaps R. was right and the girl was too dumb.

_Why?_

She pondered the question carefully, remembering the old adage of playing "hard to get" and thought "to hell with that".

_Well…I'd feel bad, I guess. We only met a few weeks ago._

"She got you good." —Shut up.

_It's okay. I just…I guess I like you a lot. Silly isn't? You must think I'm an idiot or something. I mean, we haven't even met in person yet._

Yet, he said it. Now, she really couldn't contain her excitement.

_How about this? I'll take it only if you promise me we'll meet face-to-face._

"Huh, maybe I figured you wrong." —Of course, you fool.

_Great! I can't wait to meet you. _

And now, for the crowning moment, for the lapis gold: Sayu typed in her address (thus sealing her fate). She drummed her fingers as the last letter was sent and dreamed of a tall, handsome stranger waiting to whisk her away like a fairytale princess.

-

Aizawa inspected the recent reports and feigned experienced assurance and was momentously relieved that the rest of his officers believed in him absolutely. _What happens when you absolutely fail?_ He shook his head and swallowed an Advil. There was no time for self-pity.

"The killings, you say, just stopped?"

Matsuda plopped down on a vacant chair, legs quivering from off-days' insomnia. He scratched his chin, pensive, but decided it was best to be forthright. "Yes. Apparently so. We haven't heard any new reports for two weeks now…do you think…"

"Think what."

"That this 'Kira' died himself?"

"Preposterous. First of all, we were never certain this was another 'Kira'—damn, I hope we never encounter another bastard case like that. Secondly, even if this is another 'Kira'—and I'm not saying it is—why would 'Kira' die?"

"I don't know, maybe he _or she_ could be taking a break."

"Break from murdering," the chief repeated like Matsuda was a fluid-filled imbecile.

"Well, frankly, yes! Remember during the two week amnesty period with Kira? No deaths because he was playing us."

"Amnesty period," complete disbelief.

"Chief, listen to me! I think we should look into this more."

"Matsuda, I understand where you're coming from. No one wants another Kira to emerge, but at this moment, we don't have the manpower to heavily investigate every case that flows our way. From what I can tell, these deaths and the deaths dealt by Kira are nothing alike. There's no pattern. _These aren't criminal, Matsuda_. They're civilians like you and I…and what happened to them was tragic. But there's no proof it's supernatural."

"But what about—"

"Forget about it. How about this, I'll let you look into them, on your _own_ time, and you quit badgering me?"

Matsuda swore his allegiance and honor and a million other too trite, too absurd vows, and Aizawa rolled his eyes. Kids these days.

-

"Are you sure this will work?"

"I'm positive."

"So heartless, even willing to risk _her_."

"It's all for the greater good."

(No one can be spared.)

**ii. ****pulp is to cult as fiction is to clan**

July 23rd was officially the happiest day of her life. The mailman dropped off an ostensibly unremarkable parcel on the Yagamis' (what's left of the family) porch. Young daughter Sayu (only child still alive) enthusiastically ripped apart the waxy polka-dotted wrapping paper in a furiously flushed frenzy.

Nails brightly coated pink, teeth just brushed, everything was perfect. Because today was a perfect day.

Carefully, Sayu lifted the tin lid (nondescript) and scrutinized the inside for a cuddly stuffed animal or an handmade origami flower or…or nothing. Upon white silk was a finely written letter—characters in perfect dabs, a masterful calligraphic rendition—and a thin black book.

Sayu frowned, dreadfully anticlimactic.

_Dearest Sayu—_the letter read,

_I know you were expecting something cuter, like a fluffy kitty or bunny. I'm very sorry to disappoint you. I promise I will send one of those soon. Enclosed is my favorite book, most treasured possession. And I want you to have it. Follow the instructions I have listed, carefully. I eagerly await your response tonight at 8.00._

And instantly, she was touched again. How special, how wonderful. He was such a gentleman (Sayu fancied herself in love or nearly).

-

"That was a mean trick you played."

"It was the only way."

"You have no soul."

"No one does. Besides, some things are best kept in the family. An heirloom."

-

Promptly at eight sharp, Sayu logged onto her computer and typed a note to her mystery friend. She was gushing and shuddering in delight, enthralled—imbued—with the idea of innocent romance and first love. (She's a late-bloomer, the mother once said.) But never mind that (or the rest of the world) because Sayu had a secret no one can snatch.

Of all the girls in Japan—on the Internet—of which there were countless, he chose her. And maybe she was special, even if it was just in this. And maybe, he really was her god-intended prince (if she believed in magic—she didn't, or did too much).

_Hi! I got your gift today. Thank you! Your letter was very sweet._

—I'm glad you received it. I hope it's in good condition?

_It's perfect! But um…the book you sent me, I know you said it's your favorite and all, but it's blank._

—It's supposed to be. It's for you to write in. I thought we could play a little game.

_Sure, I like games. What did you have in mind?_

—Do you know the story of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf?"

-

Days passed, and he gorged her on grand philosophies of Right vs. Wrong (of the absent, illusory demarcation separating Evil and Good) and how, sometimes Wrong was Right and Right was Wrong. Sayu read his pseudo-theological replies over and over again, memorizing them verbatim, even quoted back—mumbling, smothered under covers—in her sleep.

But she still didn't understand them wholly, never _truly_ grasped the vision he tried so hard to instill in her. _Because you're stupid_, no that was wrong. He tapped the delete button in a desultory, almost ritualized manner. It would take forever and another to make her comprehend.

And then…by a stroke of genius or a da Vinci glide of sfumato glaze, she learned and regurgitated.

(and on the seventh day, God was pleased…)

He smiled deviously, smacked his partner-in-crime, _thwack, _on the temple (the other growled, plotting a clandestine retaliation, _called rebellion_).

She conquered the recondite knowledge of immortals (and he had conquered her, garnered her divine trust, celestial spine twitching to be snapped).

-

"God will be pissed."

"There is no god."

"Even though, you shouldn't do this. I have a bad feeling."

"Since when did you become so nice?"

"I'm just saying. It's bad to play god and think you can get away with it.

-

He never explained the "rules" of the game, only enumerated what she must gather (to beat the big boss at the end) and record them in the book he gave her. Only…the items she collected were random names.

_Don't worry, it's just part of the game. I have one too, see?_ (and he flashed her his die-hard won copy of the skinny book).

Sayu relaxed and smiled unwaveringly at the blinking screen and obeyed his word like they were the commandments.

But then, one sulky afternoon, Sayu declared she was through with the game, that she was sick and tired of doing this, that she wanted—_needed_—to meet him. And here erupted the ultimatum: if he refuses then she refuses too, to play.

He laughed and retorted that she could do whatever she wanted, because he could care less. Because he had a million replacements, and she only had him. (And Sayu knew that was truth.) That maybe long ago, he persisted, she had other "friends" but they abandoned her because she was a partially paralyzed freak on the verge of a neurotic relapse any second.

And he was awfully, altruistically tender to care for her.

No one else would even give her the time of day.

Sayu cried and recanted. She would be good; she loved him.

-

"Ide, Matsuda, come down to the department now. Yamato is dead."

With that, intensely electrified and dejected, Aizawa sunk into his chair and dialed the phone again: this one was for the wife. He dreaded hearing her voice.

"Hello?"

**iii. ****martyrdom is not designed for the strong**

When Sayu was fourteen, her father taught her the endearing principles of anarchy versus civil disobedience. She listened with rapt attention, knees hugging to her chest, eyes glistening with admiration and devoted love.

The first (he explained in his dry, somnolent voice) has a foundation of chaos and entropy. There is only anguish, followed by remorse. Anarchy is futile, anarchy is for those already surrendered. He continued (now elated, as if he were informed of some liberator's marvelous rebirth). Civil disobedience is a calm and _effective_ way to show your discontent. No society is paradise. We are only human. But through the latter, you can declare your pain and gain at the finale.

But that was when she was young and gullible. Now, father was dead (and Light had to "go away"—had to die), and she was all alone. Because mother was depressed herself and barely hanging on, immersing deeper and deeper into the oblivion shadows of the Hollow Men.

And so, Sayu turned towards another savior: the mystery behind the Internet, the man she could love (and hate) and never know completely. He was like a drug destined to kill. And she was the zealous target impatient for her turn at the needle's edge.

_Are you ready for the next stage of the game?_

Sayu knew this was no game but grinned and drowned out any concept of mercy. This was their domain now (she liked the notion of "their").

-

"Hal, it's good to see you again. You look, wow, the years did nothing to your figure!"

"Up here, dear. Thank you. I'm only here because Near took an interest in the cases again. Something about another 'Kira' on the phone? The rest was engulfed by static."

Halle Lidner shifted from foot to foot and cursed herself for picking the stilettos, particularly since they haven't been broke into properly. Vanity, she feared, would be her theatrical demise.

"Matsuda, I'm sorry I didn't believe you before."

"Don't worry about it. That stuff's in the past now. I'm just glad you're here. We're swamped. The phones won't stop ringing, and there are deaths every few hours now."

"Any idea who's behind it?"

"If we did, you—and him—wouldn't be here."

"Well said."

She drank the lukewarm, acidic coffee with one, courageous gulp, grimacing in disgust. Vile. Nothing more detestable than a cheap caffeine fix.

"Hal, you don't think that…Light could be alive do you?"

"Impossible. Everyone, including you, saw him die. We shot him twice too, just to test it."

"But, how can…"

"Remember the pseudo-Kira? My guess is there's another screwed up creep toying with a Death Note."

"So it can't be Light."

"Matsuda," she eyed him solemnly (face devoid of emotion, the ice queen's personification) "Light died. Dead people do not come back."

"I know," he whispered.

And that was what hurt the most.

-

"You must be the devil."

"Shut up or I won't give you _this_."

"Apples!"

"The ripe, crunchy, red ones you like too. So you gonna help me or not?"

"Sure, sure, gimme the apples."

"I think it's time for us to jailbreak out of here, for the final confrontation."

(The showdown of human extremes.)

-

_I wrote the names down like you asked. Please come and see me. Please. I want to know who you are so badly._

—I'm sorry, but that will have to wait. I'm in a precarious situation currently.

_But I...I love you._

-

"Sayu! Sayu, are you all right? I heard a crash. You didn't fall did you?"

Sachiko ran up the stairs, heart palpitating at meteoric speed, begging her daughter to be okay. Hand at the doorknob, one turn, and—

"Sayu! Oh god, what happened? Hang on, Mommy's here. Hang on, Sayu. Sayu!"

Sachiko screamed, grabbed the phone, and cried into the receiver.

"Hello? Hello? My name is Sachiko Yagami. My daughter…please, help."

-

Near pushed aside the mountain of papers, kept being stuffed into his arms, and reverted his gaze to the Tarot cards. He lined them against one another, shuffled thrice, and dealt them out in sixes. The first line told the name, the second the date, and the third the conclusion (but he never flipped that row over, that would be no fun).

Swish, they toppled against one another. Another castle annihilated. He was getting a tad annoyed.

"Did you hear me?" Hal asked.

"I did, but I'm choosing to ignore you so goodbye."

"This is serious, Near. More were found this morning."

"People die. Maybe it's not 'Kira' after all."

"Ha-ha, that's so funny. I'm not laughing so you shouldn't be joking. Did you deduce anything yet?"

"Nope."

"So you're quitting? The Almighty Near is finished? Is this what you're telling me?" she shrieked, ready to strangle him.

"Ow, not so loud, please. I'm not giving up. I'm just biding my time. There's no point pouring over useless garbage when we don't even have a point of inception."

"Point of inception, I'll tell you one—"

"All we know is that the killings started sometime last spring but stopped then began again around midsummer. So unless you're telling me there's a fantastical dreamland out there with all the answers, I'd prefer if you leave."

"But we can't just do nothing!"

"I'm not doing nothing. I'm reading your fortune."

-

Sachiko rode with her daughter, held tight to her hand, the entire way to the hospital. She importuned every god in every religion to let Sayu lived and heard no answers. Sayu was in critical condition, body starved and degenerating rapidly. And…_pneumonia_ (Sachiko couldn't think how she contracted that one).

Sayu, she thought, was on the brink of death. And she failed (again) as a mother. Like a pernicious ghost bent on revenge, the image of a grim death would not stop playing. Hammered into her mind, hitting rewind and rewind (then record).

In a second, she was going to lose it too.

"Doctor! Please, tell me that she's okay."

"Yagami-san, your daughter is resting now, but we need to keep her here, at least for the week, to monitor her progress. Now, if you'll come with me to the hall…"

Curtain pulled, black and ominous, it drained Sayu's room of penetrating sound and sensation. And then, a figure ascended from the tiled ground. Sayu opened her eyes wearily, waved in front of her to feel the soft light accruing from a compact sphere. It escaped her reach and landed above her face, dangling like a decapitated prisoner-head.

"Hello, Sayu, long time no see. Sorry I couldn't come earlier."

"Light?"

"It's me."

"But…you died."

"Dead is dead, but I'm still here. Not for long though. I'm just here to take back what I gave you. So the book please, Sayu."

"The…book?"

And it all focused into place.

"The black book! That was you? Why didn't you say so, Light?"

"Because dead is dead. Sayu, now no more nonsense. Give me the book. I don't want to get nasty with you."

"So all those months…it was you. Why are you appearing only now?"

"You're about to die, and I need my book back. So, again, if you please."

"Light…I'm going to die?"

He sighed in exasperation. Ryuk would have a field day if he could see this (gloating, corpulent, _vexing_ jerk).

"Yes, Sayu, you are going to die in a few minutes, which is why I'm here. Book, please."

She extended a feeble hand for the drawer next to the bed, unable to reach, arm fell. Light opened the drawer and retrieved the Death Note, tucking it safely into his right lung (for future reference, this was the epitome of storage).

"Thank you, Sayu. I have to go now. I'm sorry you had to die."

"Light, wait, tell me: why didn't you say anything?" _why are you leaving me again, I love you._

"Dead is dead," _and alive is alive._

He touched her hand for a brief instant before vanishing. Only the howling sound of a demonic chuckle echoed, thrashing through the enveloped room.

And then, Sayu was all-of-a-sudden dead.

-

"Yagami-san, we are terribly sorry but your daughter has….passed away."

Sachiko collapsed, shivering, fuming uncontrollably—as if gone berserk—and muffled her screams and tears with bitten flesh.

-

Aizawa announced to his diminished team Monday morning that Sayu Yagami was dead.

No one spoke or moved. Somehow, they suspected as much.

-

In Mu, Light rested against a gray, ashen tree (bereft of bark and vitality) and reflected all that happened. Within each hand was a Death Note, exquisitely rejuvenated and unblemished, like a flirtatious invitation to play again.

—game over, second time—

He spied Ryuk lounging lazily nearby, tongue snaking around the smooth, slippery tissue of an apple.

"What do you say we go for another round, Ryuk?"

"You're on. Winner pays thirteen apples this time. Heh, maybe third time's the charm, charmer boy."

"I won the last contest. You said that only shinigami can give humans Death Notes _and_ that the shinigami must remain with the human."

"I did no such thing. I merely suggested them. Ain't no rules but what you make of them. Anyway, are you in or what?"

Light considered his options and agreed, because in an ideal world he was god and god created the wonders. God could defy the laws of Nothing and Everything. In theory and practice, Light controlled both _heaven_ and _hell_.

(Because the Internet served as a gate connecting existence and inexistence.)

"Your turn to pick a human, Ryuk. Wake me up when you're done."


End file.
